


Wishful Thinking

by suallenparker



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, pretty woman!AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-05
Updated: 2013-08-13
Packaged: 2017-11-23 18:00:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 22,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/625023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suallenparker/pseuds/suallenparker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When high-class call-girl Jolie Gardens gets hired by the powerful Mr. Gold to spend seven nights in his mansion, she finds herself strangely attracted to her mysterious customer. And what stats out as an opportunity to earn enough money to reclaim her freedom, evolves into something more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to indiefic for her help!
> 
> TIMELINE: Set before the Curse was broken, but after Emma arrived in Storybrooke.

**Chapter 1**

The first night:

Maybe Mr. Gold was one of those guys who wanted the girlfriend experience. The fact that that he spent so much money just to have her exclusively for every night during the next seven days suggested that. It also suggested that he might be a controlling creep. And the fact that he lived in a pink mansion didn't help.

Jolie Gardens checked her make up in the gilded hand mirror she always carried around in her purse and reapplied her red lipstick, before she got out of the car and closed the door. Her stomach fluttered like it always did when she met a new client. Like it always did when she met any client. 

_Money,_ she thought, holding on to her small black clutch with both hands. _Freedom._ She had to do this and she would. 

Dustin, her driver, rolled down a window. “I'll wait here until you text me you're safe,” he said. “Call me, if you need help. I'll kick the door in in seconds, okay?” Dustin was a big man with even bigger muscles and Jolie didn't doubt his words for one second. Dustin could be a sexist bastard sometimes, but he had always been there for her when one of the clients tried to take more than he had paid for.

Pulling down her red dress, that had run up her thighs during the ride here, Jolie nodded. “Thank you, Dustin,” she said.

He frowned. “Be careful with that man,” he said. “Gold is not only the richest man in Storybrooke, but also the most dangerous one.”

For a moment Jolie wondered if he was messing with her and she searched his face, but he seemed sincere. Fantastic! Just the thing a girl wanted to hear before she met with a total stranger to have sex.

_Money._ Straightening herself up, Jolie walked towards the entrance. _Freedom._

The door opened before she had the chance to knock and Jolie found herself face to face with a man she had seen before. The man with the long hair and the cane had interrupted her session with Paul yesterday night. Mr. Gold was the man who hadn't been able to take his eyes off her. Now he wore a different suit than last night, but the look in eyes was the same. Open and vulnerable and full of adoration.

That moment, Jolie had no doubt that this man in front of her would grant her anything she'd ask of him. And like last night, it scared her. The power he gave her over him scared her. His intensity scared her. And most of all it scared her that she wanted to hug him and promise him that they would be all right. As if _they_ would even exist. So she had winked at him yesterday. She had flirted, had teased, because she had been on a job. 

She didn't know him and he wasn't her salvation. This was business. _Money. Freedom._

Today she gave him her best impression of a sexy smile, before she swiftly flung her arms around his neck and pressed her body against his, turning her urge to hug him into what this really was. A chance for him to feel the merchandise. 

“Hello, Darling,” she whispered against his ear. He smelled nice. Fresh, spicy.

He froze. Tensed up and didn't move. But Jolie could feel his cock twitch against her thigh. Now that was something she knew how to work with. Smirking, she pulled back to look at him, her hands shifting from his neck over his shoulders to his upper arms.

“I'll take good care of you,” she promised him.

He swallowed hard. “Let's not get ahead of ourselves,” he said and flashed her a shark-like smile. “Please call me Mr. Gold.”

“Of course, Mr. Gold,” she said teasingly. “My name is Rosie, but you can call me whatever you like.” Maybe she should've felt intimidated by him, with Dustin's words still fresh in her memory, but she felt strangely safe. Besides, one client had wanted her to call him Batman and this wasn't weirder than that.

His gaze dropped to her lips and she wondered if he'd be a gentle kisser. Not that she'd ever find out. She never kissed a client on the mouth. Never.

“So, Mr Gold,” she added, running her hands back up his arms and playing with the collar of his suit jacket. “What do you want to do next?” She licked her lips just to mess with him.

“Well…” He had to clear his throat. “Dinner is already set in the dining room.”

“Sounds perfect,” Jolie said with a smile, rubbing her hips against his. 

Inhaling sharply he gave a short nod and took a step away from her. Her hands dropped to her sides. Before she followed him into the house, she turned around and waved at Dustin. Her gut told her she wouldn't need him tonight.

o0o

Beautiful wasn't the right word to describe the dining room. Blue wallpapers with subtle, geographic ornaments and flat sculptures of different kinds of wood decorated the walls and a large wooden table dominated the room. It felt elegant and masculine. This dining room wasn't beautiful, it was handsome and it represented its owner quite well.

Mr. Gold had prepared a lasagna and while she ate, he played with his food and watched her. It was troubling. Not because she was worried about him, but because she started to forget why she was here. 

It was never smart to forget who you were, but unfortunately Jolie had a tendency to hide in illusions. He made her forget that she was here because he owned her for the night. He made her feel warm. He made her feel like a person. This was very troubling.

She caught herself wondering what it would take to make him touch her. She wanted him to touch her. He hadn't touched her yet. Not once. She touched him. She had basically thrown herself at him at the entranceand during the dinner she kept touching his arm. He always seemed a little shocked by it, surprised and he started smiling at her. Not that shark smile from earlier, but a genuine smile. So she wanted to keep touching him because his smile was so sweet. This was silly. She felt like they were on a date. She felt like he genuinely cared about her. This was dangerous. She was no damsel in distress and he wouldn't be her prince on a white horse. All the saving she needed, she had to do herself. She would please him so much, he would instantly hire her for another week and her freedom would be closer again.

And just like she hoped he guided her to a bedroom after they finished their lasagna. 

“That's your room,” he said as he opened the door.

The words didn't really register with her. She just stared at the beautiful room. Cream white walls, a thick, fluffy carpet in wine red and a canopy bed in the middle of the room. The windows overlooked the garden and wild flowers bloomed beneath the window. Two nightstands stood on each side of the bed, a differentgolden lamp on each of them. A big TV screen hung on the wall across from the bed.

“You like it,” he stated eventually and she looked at him. There was such relief on his face, such sweetness. She felt so warm under his gaze, she just wanted to rub herself against him and purr like a cat. 

This was insane. She didn't even know him. Hell, he didn't know her either. He ordered her like she would order a book. And she was here because of the money. Time to remind them both of that.

She looped her arms around his neck and pressed an openmouthed kiss against his throat, just above his collar. “I love it,” she chirped and it felt fake and safer already. If she had learned anything from her job, it was how to fake it. Kissing his throat again, she pressed against him and could feel his erection. She swayed her hips and kissed her way from his throat to his jaw. She nibbled on his earlobe and he shivered. His cane landed on the ground with a thump.

Groaning he caught her hips with his hands, but instead of pressing into her, he stilled them. “We need to talk about the rules, dearie,” he panted.

“Sure.” She nipped on his earlobe again, his fingers dug into her flesh. “Condoms are mandatory, I carry some in my purse. No kissing on the mouth, no anal, no smacking me around,” she listed.

He pulled away until their gazes met. She didn't like the expression on his face. Now he looked intimidating.

“Somebody hurt you?” he asked dangerously low.

She smirked, her fingers playing with the hair on the nape of his neck. “Darling, nobody does anything to me without my permission.”

“You're lying,” he said, squinting at her. “Tell me who hurt you.”

Right now his firm grip on her hips started to be painful. She raised an eyebrow. “Trying to save me?” 

He didn't answer, just stared at her, waiting until she had to break the gaze. Since offense was always the best defense, she kissed his throat again. He wasn't her salvation, seemed like she wasn't the only one who needed a reminder of that.

“You can touch me, it's okay,” she whispered against his skin. Still peppering his throat with kisses, she slipped her hands between their bodies and unbuttoned his blazer. He was warm and she felt hot. She wished he wouldn't be such a gentleman. She wished he wouldn't be so kind.

When she tried to push his blazer off his shoulders, he caught her wrists in his hands. Seemed like he only ever touched her to stop her from moving. She missed the warmth of his hands on her hips. He wanted her, she could feel how hard he was for her. She looked at him and saw the desire in his eyes.

He was breathing heavily and for one second she thought, he might kiss her, but instead he took a step back, his hands around her wrists holding her at arms length. Gosh, he looked sexy.

“You'll take on no other clients asidefrom me,” he said, his voice hoarse. “This is exclusive, understand?”

Nodding, she tried to lean into him again, but he kept her at distance. She wondered if he would be hers exclusively too.

“You'll come here each night and sleep in this room,” he continued. “Do we have a deal?”

She shook her head slowly. “Sure, Darling.” Then she bit her lip before she smirked. “I mean, Mr. Gold.” 

His eyes darkened and for a moment she imagined him pushing her against the wall, holding her hands above her head and kissing her, pressing his body against hers. And she could feel herself getting wet. 

“Then I'll let you get settled.” He released her wrists. She reached for him, but he just took another step back. “You can stop working so hard, dearie,” he said. “I won't fuck you tonight.” His tone was harsh, he sounded like he was on the run.

She looked at his erection straining against the cotton of his pants. “But you want me.” She wanted to take his cock in her hands, she wanted to taste him. She wanted to see him lose control because of her. She wanted –

“I don't pay for sex.” His words showered her like icy water.

She gulped and crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Then why am I here?”

His expression changed and for a second he looked at her like he had yesterday. Then she saw something in his eyes which looked a lot like desperation.

“I pay for your company,” he said quietly.

“So you'll come back later? Sleep in one bed with me?” Jolie had a client like that once. His wife had recently died and he had just wanted somebody to hold him. He had cried in her arms all night. What she did wasn't always about sex, though it was easier when it was just about sex. Otherwise things could get complicated. Like now when she found herself looking forward to cuddling with Mr. Gold. She enjoyed this more than she should. He didn't feel like a client. He felt good. He made her feel good. She would feel better if he'd touch her and his rejection stung. How sick was that?

Smiling his shark smile again he bent down and picked up his cane. “Have a good night.” With that he turned around and walked away from her.

“If you pay for company, then why are you leaving me now?” 

“Don't be disappointed, we still have more nights to come, dearie,” he said without turning around.

That was the third time he called her dearie. He hadn't called her by her name even once. He didn't even _know_ her name. To him, she was Rosie, the call girl.It shouldn't bother her, but it did.

She watched him leave, then entered the room, leaving the door open behind her. The bed was huge, space enough for two. Sighing, Jolie sat down on the bed and kicked her shoes off.

Seemed like she got paid to sleep in this perfect room that made her own home look like a shack, and still she wasn't satisfied with the situation. This was very troubling.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Indie for her help!  
> And thanks to all of you for kudos and comments and general encouragement!

The first morning:

Rosie was smiles and flirts and teasing and sex. Jolie was cotton pajamas, books and cookie dough ice cream. What she saw after she wiped away the steam from the mirror, was Jolie. 

Her wet hair was wrapped up in a fluffy, red towel and all her makeupwas washed away. She felt bare. That was one reason why she usually didn't stay with clients overnight – aside from the obvious one that thus far nobody had requested her to do that before Mr. Gold, but still. 

The black dress that had looked so sexy on her last night now felt wrong. The fabric was wrinkled because she had slept in it and without the complimentary makeup, it felt out of place. Jolie stuck her tongue out, then she took her purse from the bathroom shelf and searched for her red lipstick. Before she would face Gold again, she wanted to reinforce at least some of her defenses. Red lipstick always made her feel more like Rosie. Sexy and provocative and expensive.

Of course she found the lipstick at the very bottom of the purse, beneath her toothbrush, the plastic bag with yesterday’s panties, smart phone, a pack of gum and a few loose paper tissues. Really, it was astonishing what one could fit into a classy black clutch. Moments later Jolie rolled her lips against each other, then she surveyed the result in the mirror. A little better, she decided.

It was silly, but now she felt more suited to encounter Gold again. As if some red lipstick could serve her as a weapon. But then, when she remembered how his body had reacted to her, maybe that was exactly what it was. 

And her own behavior, yesterday? She had just been confused by his kindness. She wasn't really attracted to him. Of course not. He was a client. Today she would be professional and give him exactly what he wanted from her, not more. If he wanted company, he should have it. 

She bent over and rubbed her hair with the towel, before she flipped her hair back again and combed it with her fingers, trying to untangle her curls. Since she couldn't find a hair dryer in this otherwise luxurious bathroom, there wasn't much else she could do to it.

After she put the wet towel in the hamper right next to the oversized shower, she left the bathroom, without granting her mirror image one more look. When she got to the first floor, she heard noises coming from a door to her left.

She followed the sounds and she found herself in a kitchen. The walls were painted in a light, sunny yellow and two tall windows looked out to the garden, showing a groomed garden with about twenty rosebushes in full bloom. The antique looking, white cabinets and countertops covered almost one side of the room.In contrast was the huge high tech fridge that stood right next to it.On the wall across from the windows was a small kitchen table with two light chairs. The room had more warmth to it than the dining room. It felt more personal, yet strangely if felt more … incomplete. No art, no decorative tidbits, just empty walls. Somehow that suited Gold too. 

Now he was sitting in one of the chairs, reading the newspaper and stirring a cup of coffee. He was already dressed; a black two piece suit, black shirt and a purple tie.Not even one hair seemed out of place. And yet, there was also something incomplete about him.Like he was missing something. Like he had lost something. Someone, maybe? She wondered if he had ever been married. Then she wondered how his wife might have died, because clearly no woman in her right mind would leave this man.Dangerous territory. He was a client and not her salvation. Getting all dreamy eyed about him wouldn't help her do her job. It would only lead to making her cry in the end.

So far Gold hadn't even looked up from the newspaper. For a split second she believed that he hadn't even noticed her but then she saw how his eyes seemed to be fixed on a point at the paper. Whatever he was doing, it was not reading. She assumed he tried to play it cool. Adorable. Her lips curled into a smile. 

“With whom do I have to sleep to get a drink here?” she asked.

“Tea's in the pot on the counter,” he said over the rustle of his newspaper as he flipped a page. “Milk is in the Fridge and brown sugar is in the cabinet next to the fridge.” He didn't even look up and that disappointed her. But he blushed, which made her happy for some unexplainable reason.

She found a teacup with a saucer and a spoon next to the pot. The tea smelled delicious. Probably Assam, she guessed. Not the cheap stuff that came in bags, which she had at home, no. This was the good stuff. After she poured herself some tea, she carried the cup and the saucer to the table and set down on the other chair. He looked up and frowned, almost like he was surprised to find her this close to him. They sat closer together than they had yesterday and he was smelling really good today. She wondered what he would do if she'd lean in and kissed him. – Not that she would ever do it, of course. He was a client. He was her way to freedom. Some sort of shortcut, but nothing more. And she would keep him just entertained enough so he'd want her to stick around. 

“How'd you know I prefer tea?” she asked. “Most people just assume I drink coffee.”

He finally looked up from his newspaper gave her one of his shark smiles. “Well,” he said slowly, “let's call it a hunch, dearie.”

She could see in his eyes that she was missing something. But what was it? Then it hit her. Coffee. She didn't smell any coffee. 

“You made the tea for yourself, didn't you?” Now it was her time to blush.

He didn't answer, he just smiled and curse her, but she smiled too.

“Share your newspaper with me?” she asked. 

Still smiling he handed her a few pages.

They read in silence until she had to leave.

o0o

The second night:

He wore a coat when he opened the door.

“You just came home?” she asked, hugging him briefly before she walked past him into the house.

He cleared his throat. “I'm on my way out, actually.”

She turned back around to him and really, he was buttoning up his coat, the front door still open behind him. Beneath his coat he wore the same suit from this morning. She had switched her black dress for a green one. Judging from the look in his eyes, he liked it.

“I'm sorry, dearie,” he said, “but I'm afraid you'll have to spend the evening without me.” Except that he didn't sound afraid or sorry at all. He sounded calm and calculating like he always did when he called her dearie. She started to dislike that particular endearment.

“Why do you pay for my company when you just leave me anyway?” she asked, her arms crossed in front of her. She shouldn't care. Yet she wanted him to stay and that bothered her.

“I'm a rich man,” he said, flashing her that shark-smile again. “I can spend my money however I want.”

She watched him walk out the door, almost as if she waited for him to turn around to her once more. Of course he didn't. With him gone, tonight would be easy money and she would be one step closer to her freedom. This was a job.

Sighing, she went to her room and stopped in front of the bed, confused. A pair of pajamas laid on the bed. Caramel colored pajamas with a pattern of little drawn ducks in pink and green. Next thing she knew, she was holding them in her hands. The fabric was so soft! She rubbed it against her face. Being unable to resist she quickly changed from her dress into the pajamas. The fabric felt warm and soft against her skin and her feet appreciated getting out of the heels she had been wearing. Smiling gleefully she wriggled her toes, before she took her smart phone out of her purse, threw the purse on the bed and left to get something to eat.

In the kitchen she found a sandwich on the table. She sat in his chair and placed her phone next to her, wondering what he'd do if he found her there. Maybe put her on the table and punish her? That could be interesting. But she suspected he'd only sit on the other chair. Why did she feel the urge to provoke him? She really shouldn't care about what he did or didn't do as long as she got paid. This was a job.

While she ate, her phone buzzed. A message. From Gold, maybe? She shook her head. Ridiculous. He didn't have her number. And why would he text her? She had to stop thinking about that man. Just because he didn't treat her like he owned her, didn't make him a good guy. She barely knew him. But that was the problem, wasn't it? She hadn't figured him out yet and he left her plenty of space to project on him. He was kind to her and instantly she jumped to conclusions. What desperate behavior. But that was what she was. Desperate. She was drowning in debts, she was selling her body to survive and she was all alone.

The message was from a guy she had met this morning. Brad. He had bought her a coffee in her favorite little cafe downtown and she drank it even though she despised the taste, because he was cute. And according to the message, he wanted to see her again. Jolie smiled. This was something real. Not a client, but a normal guy. Something serious, maybe.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to indiefic for her help. And thanks to everyone who gave kudos or dropped me a little comment!

**Chapter 3**

Before:

Mr. Gold never believed that shock could render you motionless. Before Rumplestiltskin became the Dark One, he had known fear, but he had always been able to run away. Trait of the coward.

But here he was. Standing in the living room of one of his clients, Paul Malfoy, to be exact, at the far side of the town, shellshocked, while Malfoy talked to his Belle.

Belle was alive.

Just a few feet away from him, she whispered something into Malfoy’s ear, one of her hands gently placed on his shoulder. And she looked beautiful. Her hair was shorter than he remembered it, it fell to her shoulders in soft, messy curls and she wore a short, black dress with triangular cutouts, exposing her flawless skin.

Gold couldn't understand what she was saying to Malfoy, but he could see how Malfoy smiled at her, the first genuine smile he had ever seen on that man. And he saw how Malfoy placed one hand on Belle's hip, stroking her bare skin with his thumb.

For just that, Gold wanted to burn Malfoy to ashes. But all he could do was watch, because Belle was alive and breathing and he felt like his whole body had been frozen for decades and numb and empty but now she was alive and everything was tingling and he could not move, not if he didn't want to fall flat on his face. His hand fisted around the knob of his cane.

She was _alive_.

Then Belle turned around and walked to the door. She winked at him. Winked! Her eyes sparkling, her chin held high and with a teasing smile curling up her lips, she winked at him. He felt ridiculously out of control. He felt silly. But Belle always had that effect on him. If he could move his mouth, he'd ask for her forgiveness. He'd tell her he loved her. And she was gone.

He blinked.

“My apologies for the interruption, Mr. Gold,” Mr. Malfoy’s voice cut through the silence that Belle left, “but I didn't expect you tonight,” he said. “Did you bring it?”

Eventually Gold peeled his gaze from the door and turned to Malfoy’s blank faced. “No matter,” he managed to say, before he had to clear his throat. Belle was alive and if he could move, he'd punch Malfoy before he'd run after her, but he couldn't feel his legs, so he was stuck.

Malfoy ran a hand over his bald head. “So … Did you bring it?”

Gold swallowed and drummed his fingers against the wooden box he held under his arm. “Of course,” he said.

“Thank heavens!” Malfoy sighed and took a step towards him, reaching for the box with both hands, but Gold turned away, shaking his head.

“We haven't discussed my price yet,” he said. His heart-rate slowed down a little. This was dealing, this was familiar ground, this he could handle. 

Malfoy just stared at the box. “Are they really in there?”

The family heirlooms Malfoy had pawned last year to hide his gambling debts from his wife? “Yes.”

“Whatever you want.”

“The girl,” Gold replied without thinking. It was just when he saw the frown on Malfoy’s face, that he realized what he just said. “Give me her name and her phone number, swear to me you'll never see her again and the box will be yours,” he added coldly. 

Malfoy nodded, frowning still. He probably couldn't believe how cheap he'd gotten the jewels back, but Gold didn't care and Malfoy would never find out how valuable this information was to him. Belle was alive.

o0o

Back in his car, Gold ran his thumb over the piece of paper in his hands. Her name was Rose now. And he had her phone number. Taking a breath, he pulled his smart phone out of the inner pocket of his jacket and dialed, his fingers trembling. Belle was alive and he wanted to hear her voice. He needed to hear her voice. He had no time to be a coward.

Somebody answered the call at the fifth ring.

“Hello, you reached Secret Desire Escorts, my name is Tiffany, how may I please you?” said a low but sweet-sounding, female voice and Gold dropped his phone. 

“Shit!”

He bent forward and picked up the phone from the floor of his car, his leg outstretched to avoid pressure on the scar.

“Hello?” he heard the voice ask before he disconnected the call.

Shit. Secret Desire Escorts? Shit! 

Gold gritted his teeth. He should go back into the house and strangle Malfoy for giving him the wrong phone number. Because this was a misunderstanding. It had to be.

Instead, Gold googled Secret Desire Escorts and clicked on the website he found. It was tasteful, all black and white, with a subtle logo that looked like a woman's handwriting. Underneath it were black and white head shots of beautiful women, arranged in rows of fours underneath each other, a name in a different handwrite under every picture. He found Belle's picture in the third row. It was the picture on the left corner, “Rosie” written underneath it.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

He would kill Regina for this.

But first he had other things to take care of. He dialed the number again.

“You reached Secret Desire Escorts, my name is Candy, how may I please you?” another female voice said.

This time Gold had an answer.

o0o

The second night:

It was dangerous to have her in the house. Especially in those moments when she looked at him like she remembered. Like she was his. Then Gold wanted to tell her how sorry he was and how much he loved her. Maybe most of all he wanted to kiss her and never let her go. But she didn't remember. She wasn't his Belle. Her name was Rosie now. Probably not her real name though. He suspected it was only the name she gave to her clients.

He knew he could sleep with her, she had made that very clear, which made it even harder for him not to make love her. He avoided touching her, afraid he wouldn't be able to resist the temptation.

Tonight he ran away from her, he was aware of that, but it wasn't the act of a coward. He didn't run to save himself but to protect her.He might be human now but he still was a monster and there were still things he had to do. He couldn't become the man she deserved yet. The savior had arrived, the sheriff had died and Gold knew the curse would break soon.

It was after two o'clock when Gold returned to his house. He was about to hang up his coat in the wardrobe, when he heard the screeching of an opening door. He turned around and found Belle, no, _Rosie_ standing in the doorway to her room. The electric light from her room illuminated her from behind.

“You're still awake,” he said. 

“I can't sleep.” She was barefoot, wearing the pajamas he had bought for her. The makeup on her face was already gone and like this morning, she looked even more like his Belle. And like this morning he had to keep himself from just pulling her into his arms. Maybe he should've stayed out until three.

With just a few steps she stood in front of him, touching his arm gently while she leaned into him and kissed him on the cheek. 

“Thank you,” she said after she pulled back.

He raised a brow. “For what?”

“The pajamas. I love them.” She smiled at him.

Unable to resist, he tucked one of her loose curls behind her ear, grazing the shell of her ear while he did. “You're welcome.”

Her hair was a mess. She looked like she just came out of bed. He wanted to take her to one. He wanted to take off the pajamas button by button, kissing every inch of fresh exposed skin.

Instead he pulled back his hand and closed it around the other, which was holding his cane. “Goodnight then,” he added. She was still touching his arm and if he didn’t get away from her soon, he'd kiss her.

She ran her hand over his arm and smiled. “I can't sleep, remember?”

“I could make you some warm milk,” he offered before he could stop himself. What a ridiculous thing to say. Whenever Bae had trouble sleeping, Rumplestiltskin had made him some warm milk. But Bell– But _Rosie_ wasn't a child. 

Nonetheless she kept smiling at him, even worse, she leaned in and kissed his cheek again. It was torture and bliss at the same time.

“You're sweet,” she whispered against his skin and pulled back. “Warm milk would be nice.”

All he could do was lead the way to the kitchen.

She sat down in his spot,one leg pulled beneath her. Her eyes challenged him like they had challenged him to admit how glad he was after she had returned with the straw. He wanted to kiss her for that. He wanted to fall on his knees and thank her for being alive. He felt his eyes burn so he turned away and opened the fridge.

He could feel her gaze on him while he poured a mug of milk and put it in the microwave for a minute. Waiting for the milk to heat up, he turned around and leaned against the counter.

She had her elbows propped up on the table, her chin resting on the back of her hands. 

Not allowing himself to stare he looked around the room until he spotted a used dish in the sink. “You found the sandwich,” he said.

“It was delicious. Thanks for taking such good care of me, Darling.”

He glanced at her and she chuckled. 

“You're really serious about names, aren't you, Mr. Gold?” she teased.

The microwave beeped, so he took the mug out and carried it over to the table.

“Names have power, dearie,” he said as he set down the mug. 

“Then maybe you should start calling me by mine.” She reached for it before he pulled away and their fingers brushed against each other.

Touché. He smirked. “Goodnight, Rosie.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to lily moonlight for her help!

Belle kissed and nibbled at his throat while she pushed him backwards onto his bed. As soon as he landed on there, she straddled him. He hitched up her skirt, running his hands over the smooth skin of her thighs. She felt fantastic, she smelled fantastic. And she tasted even better. He broke away and groaned when his fingers found nothing but her between her legs. No panties, not even a thread of fabric, just her. Slick and wet and ready for him. She nibbled at his throat, impatiently tearing at his shirt. He tried to kiss her mouth, but she turned her head away.

“That's against the rules,” she said smiling. –

And Mr Gold woke up in his bed alone. Shit. Breathing heavily, he sat up and felt around for the bedside lamp. When he found it, he switched it on and blinked against the light. A look at his clock told him that it was 5 a.m. His usual time to wake up. He never slept much; usually three to four hours of dreamless sleep every night. Not that he was complaining about the dream he just had, but part of him wished his subconscious wouldn't tease him like that. Waking up with a hard-on didn't make dealing with Belle – with _Rosie_ any easier.

With a sigh he sat up, swung his legs out of the bed and grabbed his cane. Time to start the day with a cold shower.

o0o

The second morning:

He was about to pour his second cup of tea, when he heard the sound of footsteps behind him. He turned his head and there she was.

Like yesterday morning her damp curls framed her face and yesterday evening's dress showed off quite a bit of her beautiful bare legs. Her outfit was completed by the top half of the pajamas he had bought for her, that she wore like a loose jacket. She looked adorable. 

“Morning, Mr. Gold,” she said with a smirk. And like always when she called him by his name, she sounded like she was mocking him, like she knew should be calling him something else. He hadn't missed being Rumplestiltskin, but he would love to hear her say his name. Yet that was another thing he wouldn't get from her.

He gave her a nod. “Good morning, Rosie.” Using her new name felt strange on his tongue. It felt wrong. It was a reminder that all this, her smile, the way she touched him, was a lie. Not only because he was paying her to be here, but because she had no idea who she was, who they were.

Forcing himself to look away, he poured some tea into the cup he had already prepared for her. He heard her walking up to him, then she leaned against the counter next to him, close enough to touch, giving him a perfect view of her legs. He had to focus on the tea, so he wouldn't spill any.

“Are you a vegan?” she asked suddenly.

Putting down the pot, he looked at her just in time to see her shake her head.

“There was meat in the lasagna you served on the first night,” she said, “so you do eat meat.”

“Indeed I do.” Gold handed her the cup of tea and their fingers touched briefly. 

She sipped at her tea and her eyes closed while her mouth curled into a satisfied smile. He'd be happy with just that. If he could hand her her first cup of tea every morning, he'd be happy.

Then she opened her eyes and said, “I looked into your fridge yesterday evening, I hope you don't mind.”

“Of course not. Just take whatever you like.” 

“There's not much to take. Some carrots and milk was all I found,” she said with a smile. “I assumed that you may have been robbed of all your other groceries, but it seemed unlikely, because who would rob a powerful, dangerous man such as yourself?”

“Exactly.” Even though he was blushing, he smiled as well.

“Vegan was my second guess.”

“I cannot cook,” he said and watched her eyes widen. He shrugged and added, “I'm rich, I never had to.”

She chuckled. “As long as you don't try eating the money directly …”

“Everything tastes good with ketchup. Condiments are like magic.”

That made her laugh the first heartfelt laugh he had heard from her since he had found her alive and he had to retreat to the table to keep himself from kissing her. He sat down but of course she followed him. While he leaned the cane against the wall and flipped a page in his newspaper, she made herself comfortable next to him. With the teacup in her hands, she placed her elbows on the table, looking at him over the edge of the cup.

“How did you make the lasagna then, if you can't cook?” she asked.

Putting the newspaper down he gave her his shark smile. “I'm very good at ordering food. Putting it on nice plates wasn't too difficult.”

“The sandwich yesterday?”

“Granny's”

Her eyes widened again. “You had your grandmother fix me a sandwich?”

“Not quite.” He smirked. “Granny's is the name of a diner nearby.”

“Makes more sense, actually.” She nodded. “So you really can't cook?”

“I really can't.”

She made a recognizing sound in her throat and sipped on her tea again.

He raised an eyebrow. “What now?”

She shrugged, putting down the cup. “It just explains why you're so thin.”

“I'm not thin, I'm lean.”

She reached over and poked his arm. “Say whatever you want, still you're thin.”

“Am not.”

“Right now I want to put cream in your tea so you'd get some fat on your ribs.”

Somehow he got the image of him licking whipped cream from her body. Not helping, not helping at all. He cleared his throat.

“You shouldn't mock me, I'm a dangerous man,” he murmured quietly, glaring at her.

She just kept smiling. “You look more starving than dangerous.”

He wanted to kiss her again, his brave Belle. “You better behave,” he said, “or …”

“You'll spank me?” she cut in, licking her lips.

 _Belle bending over his lap, her short skirt pulled up over her hips, his hands caressing her bare ass_ … Sweet magic, he was doomed. Shit. At that moment he was sure the woman sitting next to him would be his death. One day she would probably give him an arousal induced heart attack. Right now he was glad he could hide his growing erection under the table.

Clearing his throat again, he focused on his newspaper, flipping to a new page. “Behave, or I won't share the newspaper,“ he said, his voice hoarse. He felt her gaze on him, but didn't dare to look up.

“You're a devious man,” she said, before she stole the few pages he had already read. He didn't have the guts to stop her, afraid, he'd haul her into his lap if he were to touch her.

o0o

The third night:

He was playing with fire, but it felt just too good to stop. He could only hope this wouldn't blow up in his face. She touched his arm while she followed him into the kitchen and he felt the warmth of her hand through his jacket. He loved the smile on her face when she spotted the groceries spread out on the counter. Buns, onions, tomatoes, a jar of pickles, mayonnaise and ketchup.

“I thought we could cook together,” he said.

Her hand tightened around his arm and her smile brightened. “What are we making?”

A little nervous about his answer, he swallowed once before he said, “Hamburgers.” 

Fortunately she smiled at that. “Hamburgers?”

“Meat's in the fridge.” He shrugged and gestured at the book that laid next to a couple of tomatoes, a purple bookmark sticking out of its pages. “I found the recipe in one of my favorite cookbooks and it sounded executable.”

She raised a brow, a twinkle in her eyes. “Favorite _cookbooks_? As in _multiple_ books?”

He shrugged. “I like books.”

She smiled. “I like books too.” 

He hadn't known that about her and he was curious if it was something that was unique to Rosie, but somehow he got the feeling that he had just got new information about his Belle. She had always been so curious and hungry for stories and the wisdom and knowledge that they held.

They cooked without consulting the book. She gave him simple orders, “Please slice the onions. … No, smaller, please.” and “Please slice the tomatoes and the pickles.” So he sliced everything while she roasted the hamburgers. While he uncorked a bottle of red wine, she arranged everything on two plates. He wanted to carry their dinner into the dining room, but she sat down at the kitchen-table, placing the dishes on front of the two chairs with her eyes challenging him. And he stood there, almost out of the door and holding the bottle of wine and his cane, like a fool.

“I have real food now, so I won't bite you unless you ask nicely,” she said teasingly.

He swallowed down the first words that came to his mind: He wouldn't bargain with her to change bite to nibble. He'd love for her to nibble on him. Her mouth on his throat wandering down his chest, his stomach – Gold felt his blood rush to his penis. Shit, shit, shit! Since having her back, he had turned into a hormonal teenager. Shit!

Trying to cover himself up with the wine bottle, he hobbled to his chair as gracefully as he could and put the bottle on the table before he turned around to get some glasses. He made two steps towards the kitchen counter, then she caught his arm.

“Sit,” she said softly, almost tender. “Just tell me where they are.”

He turned back to face her and raised a brow. “Where what are?”

“The wine glasses.” She smiled gently. “I'll get them.”

She _pitied_ him, he realized. He was the poor cripple and she took pity on him. Suddenly arousal was no longer a problem. She would only touch him because he paid her too. He was a fool to believe – even for a second – otherwise. Forcing the corners of his mouth upwards, he bared his teeth.

“I'm the most powerful man in Storybrooke, dearie,” he said. “Believe me, I have enough strength to get the glasses myself.”

She tugged at his arm. “You were already walking funny and a man in pain usually doesn't have the stamina to satisfy me,” she said with a wink.

She was mocking him! Good. Mockery was better than pity. Mockery he knew how to handle. He let his gaze wander over her body, taking in her sight, her red lips, the tight dress and the swell of her breasts. She flushed and he wanted to tear that excuse of a dress from her body and lick every bit of her rosy skin. He should spread her out on the table and devour her for dinner.

Shit. _Fuck_. Usually he could intimidate people with his glare, all he did now was turn himself on. He swallowed hard before he pulled his gaze up to her face. 

She smiled at him. “Sit down, Mr. Gold.” Her voice sounded raspy. “Let me take care of you.”

And he gave in, his erection making it hard for him to do anything else but sit down, trying to force away the image of Belle kneeling in front of him, sucking him.

Staying with her wasn't just playing with fire, it was pulling out the trigger of a grenade and hoping it wouldn't go off in his damn hands. Fuck.

“The glasses are in the second cabinet left from the fridge,” he growled. 

With swaying hips she went to get them.

Fuck.

Over dinner she tried to make light conversation but he gave one syllable answers until she gave up, looking a bit hurt. He glared at his hamburger, he glared at his wine and he felt like an ass for being so rude, but if he tried to be nice to her now, she would smile at him or wink at him or touch him and he would forget about every rule and kiss her and fuck her on his kitchen table. So he glared and growled and confused her because it was for the better. He didn't need her to like him to save her. Maybe it would make things easier if she despised him.

He didn't stop her when she carried their empty plates to the kitchen sink. He didn't help her when she washed the dishes, he just sat there with his damn erection, unable to take his eyes off her and hating himself for it.

She showed such elegance, even while washing the dishes. The way her hands moved and how she arranged the cleaned dishes on the sink to dry. The way she dried her hands with a towel before neatly hanging it up.

He remembered that elegance from his Belle. The efficiency and the determined look of concentration on her face. Sweet magic, he had missed her so much.

He wished he could be a better man. He wished he could give up on his responsibilities and his duties and be free to change for her, but he wasn't. He was a father and his son would always come first. If he needed to compromise himself, if he needed to give up everything to get Bae back, he would do it.

All he had to give was his money. The rest of him wasn't worthy of her. He was just stealing moments.

After she had finished the dishes, she went to pick up the cook book and flipped through its pages. “It's beautiful,” she said, with her back to him.

“I could show you the library later, if you want,” he offered, biting his lip as soon as the words escaped him. Sweet magic, he should leave her alone before he lost control, not tempting himself by giving her a house tour.

Looking at him over her shoulder, she gasped. “You have a _library_?”

She looked excited, a bright smile on her lips, twinkle in her eyes. Fuck.

“It's only a room full of books.” He shrugged, playing it down but it was too late.

“ _Only_ …?” She gasped again and turned around to him, the book in her hands. “Show me!”

He was doomed.

o0o

She looked so much like her old self when she walked alongside the wooden bookshelves, one of her fingers gliding over the backs of the books. He watched her, leaning against the doorframe and holding on to his cane with both hands.

Once in a while she picked up a book to admire the cover or to flip through the pages. 

Belle– _Rosie_ had reached the third bookshelf, when she turned around to him, holding a book about Gothic architecture in her hands. 

“You have no thrillers,” she said.

That was true. He had no idea why she would raise that topic while looking at gothic architecture, but still. “I had enough thrill in my life thus far, dearie.”

Her brows furrowed for a moment, a glimpse of compassion in her eyes, before she smiled at him. One of her fake smiles she used when she wanted to distract, like the time she didn't want him to find out who had hurt her.

“I like reading a thriller once in a while,” she explained. “They are so simple. The good wins, the bad gets locked up or killed. Everything is in order.” With that she put the book back onto its place.

“And life's messy?” 

“Yes,” she said quietly, facing the bookshelf. She turned back around with another fake smile. “I suppose I won't find any romance novels either?” she asked with a voice so chipper and fake as her smile.

“I'm afraid not.” He tilted his head. “Do you like reading them?”

“Too dangerous,” she said with a smirk.

“Dangerous? Romance novels?”

She shrugged. “They just put silly ideas in my head. True love, happy ever after …” Her smile trembled at its edges, before she bit her lip and shrugged again.

“Oh Belle.” He took a step in her direction. But she shook her head, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

“And now you pity me.” She snorted. “Don't feel sorry for Mr. Gold. I made my choices and I live with them pretty good. I'll be my own white knight.”

“I have no doubt.” He swallowed hard, his arms almost aching with the desire to hug her. He had to leave before he would give her all the wrong promises. “I better go to bed,” he said. “I have to get up early tomorrow.”

She uncrossed her arms and walked towards him. “Want some company?”

Yes, yes, he wanted nothing more. But he knew he couldn't have her. She spoke the truth after all. She was her own white knight. He had no salvation to offer. He wouldn't even recognize it. He took a step back. “No, thank you,” he answered politely. “You stay here.” He gestured at the library. “Take every book you like. Just switch off the light when you leave.”

Now she smiled truly. “Good night then, Mr. Gold. Sweet dreams.”

He nodded. “Sweet dreams.” If he'd dream of her it would be bittersweet. 

He turned around to leave but she called for him, “Oh, and Mr. Gold?”

“Yes?” He glanced at her over his shoulder.

“Belle sounds much better than dearie,” she said.

He paled, but managed another nod before he hobbled out of the room. Sweet magic, he had called her by her real name and hadn't even noticed. Shit. Fuck.

He was doomed.


	5. Chapter 5

The third night:

Normally Jolie would love spending time in a room full of books. Especially when there was a comfortable looking sofa standing in the middle of said room, and next to it a golden floor lamp. A small table with a vase with a red rose stood there as well. A yellow, fluffy blanket was draped over one arm of the sofa. In front of it stood a low, plush stool to rest one's feet on. And the room had a fire place. A fire place! But instead of joyfully cuddling up on that sofa under that blanket in front of that fire with three to ten books to read, she watched Mr. Gold hobble out of the library, leaving her alone in the room of her dreams and all she wanted was to follow him. How ridiculous.

That was why she didn't read romance novels.

o0o

The third morning:

She found a strainer with tea-leaves in a fresh cup next to the kettle on the counter. The folded newspaper was lying on the kitchen table, and attached to it was a yellow post-it-note covered with some handwritten scribbles.

“ _I'm sorry,_ ” it read, “ _but I had to leave for work. Enjoy the newspaper. See you tonight._ ” – No signature.

How considerate of him. Smiling softly, Jolie switched the kettle on. Such a shame that he couldn't be here. She would've liked to talk to him over breakfast. She had found so many interesting books yesterday that she would've loved to discuss with him. He owned a beautiful collection of art and architecture books. The expensive kind. Big, heavy books filled with gorgeous prints and pictures. She had found hardly any fictional literature at all aside from a shelf full of children's books and some classic books for teenagers: instead she had found books about biology, mathematics, physics, sociology, psychology … Not just your basic science-for-dummies-books, but highly scientific books. And he had a whole bookshelf filled with books about law and the justice system. She wondered if he might be a lawyer. She had slept in his house for three nights and still she didn't know what kind of profession he had. She only knew that he was rich and kind and broken. And he made her feel like she could change his life for the better. Like she could save them both.

The water boiled and Jolie bit down on her bottom lip. How stupid she was! How silly! She poured the water over the tea.

He was a client. He was a source of money, the way to freedom. She couldn't allow him to become anything more to her.

It shouldn't matter that she had enjoyed yesterday’s evening. It shouldn't matter that he had a sweet smile and the gentlest hands.

She should concentrate on how rude he could be and how cold. He was secretive and calculating and distrusting and he could made her feel like she was the biggest tragedy that ever happened to him. Like she broke his heart by being in the same room with him.

She should concentrate on that.

Instead she thought about how he had placed his hand on her back last night when she had hugged him before he had led her into the kitchen.

That was why she didn't read romance novels.

o0o

The fourth night:

Hugging Gold was simply the professional thing to do, Jolie told herself as she wrapped her arms around his neck as soon as he opened the door for her. This was all for his benefit. He didn't tense up this time when she pressed herself against him so they were making progress. This was good. This could increase her chances of getting hired for another week. Because that was what it was all about. The job. And the excellent payment. She buried her head in the dip of his shoulder and inhaled his clean scent. The fabric of his coat was surprisingly soft against her cheek.

“Tell me what you want me to do,” she said against his throat. “Tell me what you need.” She kissed his Adam's apple and felt it move as he swallowed. She wished he would touch her, but he kept his arms to his sides.

“I need to work,” he said. She hated that answer. She didn't want to watch him leave. She didn't want to let go. Because … _Because_ how could she convince him of her value to him, if they never spent any time together?

“Stay,” she whispered in his ear and nibbled on his earlobe. “Let me take care of you. I'll make you happy.” Making him happy was her job, wasn't it? It was perfectly fine to want to be good at her job. She noticed that he leaned a little more heavily on his cane. He hardened against her thigh. The best would be to get him to bed, she thought. That would relieve his leg, whatever was wrong with it, and then she could take care of him like she wanted to. Like it was her job to do.

He took a step back, almost stumbling and her arms glided from around his neck down his chest until they fell into empty air. She felt graceless.

“I'm sorry,” he said, swallowed again. Then he rearranged his tie, swallowed once more, staring at her.

And then he just left. She missed him right from the very moment he walked out the door, but that had nothing to do with anything.

o0o

She ate the sandwich she found in the kitchen, sitting in his seat. She went to her room, slipped off her heels and changed into the pajamas. After she had placed her dress on a chair so it wouldn't crinkle too much, she sat on the bed and turned on the TV. She switched to the channels and found a re-run of Disney's Beauty and the Beast. The teapot was singing while the beauty danced with her beast.

A tale as old as time … Magic, love. Things Jolie had thought she had left behind her. Independence was a more realistic goal. But she missed them. She missed the parts of herself that had hoped for something as crazy as True Love.

Sometimes, when Gold looked at her, the way he had looked at her before he had left, she felt those pieces tingle like a phantom limp. Maybe it would be better if he didn’t hire her again. Jolie nibbled on her bottom lip. She should keep away from romance.

When her cell beeped she reached inside her purse and pulled the phone out. A message from Brad.

 _Got time for a drink?_ he wrote.

 _Working, sorry._ she texted back, which wasn't a lie. Gold paid her to be here. She wasn't avoiding Brad. Why should she? He was a sweet guy and his grammar was decent. Maybe she should give him a shot. Dating him was much smarter than pining after one of her clients.

She sighed and switched off the TV. It went quiet for a moment, then she heard footsteps coming from the library, each step followed by a thud. Jolie straightened up. Gold was home and it wasn't even eleven o'clock! She rose from the bed and considered changing back into her dress but quickly decided against it. Maybe he was just here to grab something. Well, whatever one might have to grab out of the library in the evening. She had no idea what he was doing when he left her alone. She had no idea what kind of work he did. She should ask him about it. Or maybe she shouldn't. It was none of her business and she already had gotten herself too involved with him.

She left her room barefoot. She hear her cell beep again before she closed the door behind her.

She found Gold sitting on the sofa in the library in the dark. His cane lay on the floor. His bad leg was stretched out, resting on the stool. He leaned over it, massaging his ankle, his hair fell in his face.

“You're home,” she said. She stayed in the doorway, one hand on the frame, the other on the knob. He flinched and straightened up and let go of his ankle, grabbing the edge of the sofa instead.

She could barely make out his face and wished there was more light so she could read his expression. Her shadow drew shapes on the ground thanks to the electrical light behind her. He switched on the lamp next to the sofa. Jolie blinked against the light then she could finally see his face. He looked so very tired. He looked as if he were in pain.

She frowned. “What's wrong?”

“I'm fine.” He shook his head. “Go to bed, dearie.”

“You're not fine.” She tilted her head and entered the room. “It's your leg, isn't it?” With just a few steps, she stood next to the stool.

“Scars don't like the weather change,” he said dryly.

“What can I do?” She kneeled down next to his bad leg and ran her fingers over the soft leather of his shoe.

“Stop fussing and go to bed. Sleep well.” His voice stayed calm but there was a storm behind his eyes. His knuckles whitened as he dug his fingers into the sofa.

She untied the lace of his shoe and pulled the shoe off his foot carefully, revealing a black and blue striped sock. Then she ran her hands over his foot without applying any pressure. Her fingers hitched up the leg of his pants until she felt the scars on his ankle. He hissed.

She looked at him. “Does that hurt?”

He didn't answer, but he didn't pull away either. She wanted to do so much more, she wanted to feel his skin, she wanted to kiss him everywhere.

She bent forward and allowed herself to kiss his ankle. “Darling, let me help you.”

He hissed again. His head lolled back against the sofa cushions, exposing his throat. “There are gel packs in the freezer in the kitchen,” he uttered, his eyes tight shut.

She rubbed over the inside of his calf. “What else?”

“There are some Ibuprofen in the cabinet left to the fridge.” He swallowed, she wanted to feel his Adam's apple move under her lips again, she wanted to lick over his skin.

Instead she stood up. “I'll be right back.”

She found everything where he said it would be and took another five minutes to fix him a sandwich - strawberry jelly and peanut butter - because again his fridge left a lot to be desired, although at least the bread was fresh. Then she arranged everything on a little tray together with a glass of water, before she carried everything to the library.

He looked content now, calm. He flashed her that shark smile when he saw the tray and nodded at the sandwich. “Hungry, dearie?”

Ignoring his quip, she placed the tray on the small table next to him and then took the gel pack to arrange it on his ankle. He hissed again.

“Better?” she asked.

He nodded slightly. Then she handed him plate with the sandwich and he frowned.

“You made me a sandwich?” He sounded genuinely surprised.

“Peanut butter jelly,” she said. “You shouldn’t take pills like this on an empty stomach.”

He pressed his lips together before he said, “Thank you.”

She smiled. She wanted to hug him. “You’re welcome.”

He shook his head and looked at the sandwich. “You must be tired,” he uttered. “You can go to bed now. I’ll be fine.”

She wanted to hug him so badly. Instead she flashed him a bright smile. “Actually, I feel like reading something.”

Without any hesitation she went to one of the bookshelves and pulled out a book that she deemed appropriate, then she returned to the sofa and sat down next to him, close enough so their arms touched.

“Winnie the Pooh?”, he asked, chuckling dryly. “A children’s book?”

“It’s not just a children’s book,” she corrected him and pulled her legs until she sat cross legged. Her right knee came to rest on his thigh. “It’s brilliant,” she added and flipped the book open. “Please tell me you’ve read it.”

“I’m afraid I haven’t yet.”

She looked at him. “Children’s books were the only kinds of literature I could find here.”

He pressed his lips together, avoided her gaze.

She sighed, before she made herself ask, “Do you have children?”

“There was a son.”

“There _was_? Did he die?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Lost him.” For a second he looked at her and the pain she saw in his eyes broke her heart.

“I’m sorry.” What useless words, she said them anyway. She wanted to hug him. She wanted to kiss his sorrow away. Maybe, if he’d let her, she could make him forget. She reached out her hand to cradle his face, but he pulled away.

“Not your burden to carry, dearie.” He sounded cool. The distance in his eyes was back.

She took a breath and focused on the book. “So, Winnie the Pooh,” she said chipper and flipped to the first chapter, moving her arm so it pressed into his. “The use of the conjunctive is brilliant. You’re gonna love it.”

“You want to read to me?” He sounded amused.

“Yes,” she said sternly. “Now eat your sandwich and be quiet.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Jolie asks about Gold’s leg.

**Chapter 6**  

The fourth morning:

He didn't seem in pain as he read the newspaper. He had fallen asleep on the sofa last night and she had covered him up with the blanket. She had stolen a kiss, her lips pressed against his for split seconds. Then she had let him alone. Dark shadows circled his eyes and she was tempted to send him back to bed to catch up on sleep, but the lines on his face were relaxed and his body wasn't as tense or timid as she had found him last night. He even smiled at her when she entered the kitchen. Maybe he would stay with her tonight?

She already wore the dress and red lipstick. In just a few minutes Dustin would come and pick her up. She wished, they had more time. She wanted breakfast in bed and sex and a nap. She wished she wouldn't want that. She wished she wouldn't want him. But she did.

She walked to the counter and poured herself a cup of tea, before she sat next to him at the table. He continued reading but instead of following his example, she watched him over the edge of her tea cup, that she held in her hands.

She wished she could be more for him. More than somebody he paid for company. She wished she could be more for herself. More than alone and lost. Last night, sitting next to him in pajamas and reading Winnie the Pooh, she had felt in place. Not because he had sat next to her, but because what she had done for him had made her feel like herself again. She wanted to feel like that more often.

Pity they were both so broken.

Jolie sipped the tea and the hot liquid cleared her throat. “You look better.”

“Thanks, doc,” he replied without looking up and flipped the page.

Jolie nipped on her tea. “Actually, I have this very cute doctor's outfit,” she said lighthearted. “I could wear it for you tonight.”

Still he kept his gaze on the newspaper, but his eyes stopped running over the pages. He swallowed. “That won't be necessary.”

“You sure?” She smirked. “I look fantastic in it.”

“You look fantastic in everything,” he mumbled. The newspaper rustled beneath his fingers.

“Thank you.”

“Thank you.” He glanced at her and flipped the page. “For last night.”

“You're welcome.”

“Usually it's not that bad, you know?” he added quietly, hunching up his shoulders and his gaze fixed on the newspaper. “Usually I'll manage quite well.”

“I wouldn't doubt it.” She put the cup down. “May I ask how it happened?”

Frowning, he nibbled on his bottom lip. She thought he wouldn't answer, when he said, “War.”

“You're a veteran? A hero, then.”

He snorted and looked up, one of his eyebrows raised. “I'm no hero, dearie. I got that to escape. Seems quite ironic now, doesn't it?” He sounded like he was mocking somebody. Probably himself.

She reached out her hand and placed it on his forearm. “But you survived.”

He snorted again and showed his teeth. “That I did.”

“I'm glad.” She squeezed his arm.

He shrugged and his shark smile widened. “My ex-wife wasn't as pleased.”

So he had been married once. Unhappy as it sounded. Jolie wanted to tell him he was better off without his ex, when her cell rang, so she kept quiet and checked the message. It was from Dustin. He already waited for her outside.

“I have to go,” she said.

Maybe it was better like that.

o0o

The fifth night:

She hated the feel of his coat beneath her palms. The soft fabric felt expensive and like loneliness.

“Say you'll stay,” she said and pressed herself against him.

She hugged him until he made her let go by stepping back. She caught a glimpse of longing in his eyes, before he smiled his shark smile. The fake smile. The come too close and I'll bite you smile. He removed her hands from his arms with efficient moves.

“I have to work, dearie,” he says coldly.

She hated that he was cold to her. She was getting greedy, she knew that. She wanted another night with him cuddled up in the library. She wanted to spend the morning hours in his bed. Maybe, if she were his girlfriend, he'd stay.

She crossed her arms and lifted her chin, before she licked her lips while her gaze wandered over his body. “I could work you, darling.”

He laughed at that. He outright laughed at that. She was at the same time disappointed and proud to get that reaction.

“Oh, you do, Rosie.” He chuckled. “Believe me, you do.”

“But you will still leave me?”

“Have to,” he corrected her with a smile, but she could see sadness in his eyes. Maybe he didn't want to leave her. She liked that thought.

“Will you stay with me tomorrow?” she asked hopefully. Full of hope. Damn herself, she was falling for that man. Nothing wrong with a little crush as long as it helped her make her customer happy, right? And she wanted Gold to be happy.

“Don't think so.”

This was making no sense. If he knew he would work nights, why would he hire her to stay at his place?

“So you're just paying me as a very expensive house sitter, is it that?” she asked teasingly.

He snorted. “Why this interest in my motivation?”

Licking her lips, she traced the seam of his collar with her fingers. “You're rich, you're smart and you're handsome and kind. I just -”

“can't figure out what's wrong with me?” he completed the sentence.

“Why are you punishing yourself?” she asked. As soon as she said it, she knew it was true. Somehow this was punishment for him. Somehow she was a punishment as well. She hated that thought.

He leered. “Trying to save me now, dearie?”

“I could make you feel good if you just let me.” She could love him.

Raising an eyebrow he pressed his lips together. Then his gaze slowly wandered over her body, making her feel naked in her tight, short dress. “I'm certain you're worth your price.”

With that, he left. She never had felt cheaper.

o0o

The fifth morning:

She woke up with a stiff neck from falling asleep on the chair in her room. She had thought, sitting would help her stay awake, obviously she had been wrong. She still wore her dress, she hadn't even taken off her shoes. She had wanted to look sexy if he'd come home early again. She had wanted to act professional.

A shower helped with her sore neck. After getting redressed, she went to the kitchen, to find it empty. She fumbled at the opening of her clutch.

Maybe he was still asleep? Maybe she should finally figure out where his bedroom was and wake him up. There was time enough for some morning sex. She didn't understand why he wouldn't fuck her. Maybe that could help them, maybe that could bring some normal into their private escort/client relationship.

She wished this would still be just about money.

Then she saw the tea on the counter. A single cup and a a strainer with tea-leaves next to the kettle. This time there was no note. He was just gone.

She shouldn't care. She would make herself not care.

She made herself a cup of tea, sat down in his spot and placed her clutch right on top of his newspaper, before she took out her cell.

 _Understood. ;) Tomorrow then? After working all night you deserve to be treated to brunch. :) ) and makes a lunch date._ Brad had texted her last night while she had been with Gold.

She didn't need Gold to love her. She didn't need love at all. She just needed his money. And she needed distance. Distraction.

 _Sorry, was busy,_ she wrote to Brad. _How about lunch today?_


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 7 in which Gold can’t leave a woman in tears.

**Chapter 7** in which Gold can’t leave a woman in tears.

The sixth night:

Every second he spent with her, he wanted to touch her and assure himself that she was really alive and with him. He wanted to kiss her, he wanted to tell her how much he loved her. He wanted to do all those things every single second he spent with her. Every single second. 

Of course he didn't. He controlled himself and kept his hands to himself and his mouth shut. Because she wasn't really Belle. Not yet. Not until the curse would break.

And he was so close to breaking it. So close. Regina was already mad like crazy. She would make a mistake sooner or later and then Emma would help him bring magic back and break the curse.

So he kept his hands to himself and kept his mouth shut. Or he tried to keep his mouth shut. He had already told her too much. He had told her about Bae. He had told her about Milah. 

Yesterday night had been awful. She had been so tempting, so sexy and lovely and beautiful. He had pushed her away and he had seen the hurt in her eyes. He had hated himself for that but it had been better than the alternative. If he hadn't pushed her away, he would've pushed her against the wall and kissed her senseless.

Clearly he was not strong enough to be around her. So he would leave her in his house tonight. He would stay in the apartment over the pawn shop. He could sleep there. Or, more likely, spin all night.

As soon as he heard her car arrive, he put on his coat. He waited for her to ring the door bell to open the door. 

As always, she hugged him. As always he was tempted to wrap his arms around her and keep her there until time would stop.

She let go of him too quickly. Usually he had to step away from her but today she sought out distance between them herself. She was smiling, but he could see right through that. Her shoulders were slightly pulled up and her whole body was tensed. Rosie wasn't happy.

“I'm sorry for what I said yesterday,” he said making himself look into her eyes. He wanted her to know he was being honest. About that one thing, he could be honest. He was sorry for hurting her, he was sorry for pushing her away, he was sorry for pulling her into all that. He wished they'd never met.

She turned her head and pressed her lips together. He wished she'd be mad at him. He wished, she'd yell at him for being a jerk, but she looked like she was about to cry.

“And you do make me happy,” he added eventually, “It's just …” that he was messed up and she deserved much better.

Tears streamed down her face. She uncrossed her arms and wiped away the tears with the backs of her hands. He felt like crying too.

“I'm so sorry, Belle.”

“It's not about you,” she mumbled.

“Who hurt you,” he asked, trying to keep the anger out of his voice, but he wasn't quite successful. 

“Nobody hurt me,” she said and another tear rolled down her face, while she lifted her chin. Such a fighter.

He wanted to slay every dragon that dared to get in her way. He wanted to kiss her tears away. Instead he leaned his cane against the wall and took his coat off.

“What are you doing?” she asked sniffling.

He handed her the purple handkerchief from his front pocket. “I will make you a cup of tea.”

Breathing heavily, she patted her face with the handkerchief. The right corner of her mouth curled up slightly. “Tea would be lovely.”

With his hand gently placed on her back, he guided her to the kitchen. He made her sit down, then turned his back to her and hobbled over to the counter. Five minutes later he returned to the table, carrying a tray with a filled tea pot, two cups on saucers, two spoons as well as a little can of milk and brown sugar.

He put the tray down and she helped him arrange everything on the table. Then he poured the tea, before he sat down and hooked his cane into the chair back.

He put milk and sugar in his cup. “I know it's none of my business,” he said quietly, “You don't have to tell me anything. But I'm here to listen if you'd like.”

“Please don't be so nice to me,” she replied, her voice heavy with tears again. “I'll cry if you don't stop.”

He looked up from the cup and saw that tears already streaked down her face again. Their gazes met, her eyes wide and wet, her lip trembling.

“Oh, sweetheart …” Unable to stop himself, he pulled his chair around the table next to hers. He laid an arm around her shoulders and pulled her against him.

“I'm so sorry,” he whispered into her hair and pressed a kiss against her head. “Just tell me, love. I'll fix it.”

For a moment, she relaxed into his embrace, leaning her forehead against his chest while her hands took hold of the lapels of his suit.

“I wasn't with another customer, I honored our agreement,” she murmured, her face hidden from his sight by her hair. Then she leaned back and his arm glided from her shoulders. She folded her hands in her lap and looked at him with pleading eyes. “But I had a date with another man.” 

His stomach tightened. He had always known the day where she would open her to other men would come. He just had never imagined that he would be the one to comfort her after another broke her heart. He pressed his lips together.

“You're mad at me,” she said.

He shook his heart slowly. “I have no right to be. Your life is your own. I don't own you and you don't owe me anything.” He wished she wouldn't sit so close. He wished he wouldn't need her as much as he did, then this would hurt less.

“What went wrong with your date?” he asked quietly.

She shrugged. “Nothing. I was being stupid.”

“You can lie better than that.” Humor had always been his best defense.

It made her smile. She tilted her head. “You see right through me, don't you, Mr. Gold.”

He was grateful to hear her use that name for him. It brought some reality to the situation. She wasn't Belle but right now he could be a friend to her. Do something that wasn't selfish. He smirked and waited for her to go on.

“I thought he'd like me and he thought he could buy me for a dinner,” she said flippantly. 

He gritted his teeth. “Tell me his name.” He wanted to teach that bastard some manners.

“Why would his name be important to you?” She frowned. “I won't see him again. It's over.”

It would be over after he would smash that guy's face in with his cane.

Sighing, she fiddled with her hands and avoided his gaze. “Sometimes I just wonder –“ She bit her lip.

“What?”

“If that's all.” She glanced at him. “Do you believe in love?”

“You could say that.” He held back a hysterical laugh. Irony everywhere.

“Did you find love?”

“Yes.” 

“Your wife?”

He snorted. “No.”

She looked at him again.

“You think, I could find love?” she asked.

“Sweetheart …” He shouldn't call her that.

Her eyes had dried and his gaze wandered to her red lips. He tugged a loose curl behind her ear and she leaned into his touch. He wanted to kiss the lipstick away. He wanted to kiss her. He swallowed hard and looked away.

“You'll find love,” he said quietly. She would always have his. He wanted to tell her that so badly. Time for him to go. He raised himself up and grabbed his cane.

She touched his arm. “You didn't drink your tea.”

He longed to sit down again, but it wouldn't be enough. He wouldn't stop there. If he would allow himself to stay, he'd touch her again. He'd ask her to love him. He'd kiss her. That was against all rules.

He straightened himself up and pulled his arm away. “I'm sorry, dearie.”

He wished he'd knew how to fix her. He wished he could give her what she deserved. But he could only leave.

  
  


o0o

The sixth morning:

He brought a cup of tea to her room. He told himself, he did that for her. He told himself he just wanted to check on her and make sure she'd be okay.

He knocked and waited for her “Come in!” before he entered.

“Good morning,” he said.

“Good morning.” She sat on the chair next to the made bed.

If he hadn't glimpsed into her room this night and had found her asleep, he'd worry she wouldn't have slept at all.

He hobbled to her as gracefully as he could and offered her the cup. “Here.”

“Thank you.” She took it and their fingers brushed. She licked her lips. “I'm so sorry about yesterday, about crying.” She blushed. “It was unprofessional and -”

“You have nothing to apologize for, sweetheart,” he interrupted her. He couldn't stop to call her that. He knew he would only escalate to 'love' now.

She placed the tea on the nightstand and stood up. “Why are you so kind to me?”

He wasn't being kind. He was being selfish just by standing here. He loved her. He wished that would be enough. So far his love hadn't been enough for anything. He would try to make up to her whatever he could. He couldn't tell her any of this.

He swallowed. “Why are you doing,“ he gestured at the room and them, “this?”

She shook her head and raised a brow. “Answer my question and I answer yours.”

“Ask something else.” She was standing too close. He could smell her sweet scent.

“What's your first name?”

The question surprised him. He struggled for a few moments to find the right answer. “Noah.” 

He hadn't given this name to anybody. The only other person who knew about it aside from Belle and him was probably Regina, who had given the name to him.

“It means comfort, doesn't it?” she asked.

He nodded. Irony everywhere.

“Noah.” She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and smiled at him. “I like it.” She reached out her hands and smoothed down the lapels of his suit with her palms. She was standing way too close.

He cleared his throat. “Your turn.”

Belle kept fingering the lapels. “I have a degree in English Literature,” she explained, “tons of student loans to repay and at the time being nobody to hire people with a decent understanding of the English language. As soon as I'm out of debt, I'll stop.” She looked at him and tilted her head, exposing her neck. “And my name is Jolie.”

He frowned.

“Rosie is for customers,” she added. Her hands moved from lapels to his shoulders. “My real name is Jolie. It means”

“Pretty.” He swallowed. “It suits you.”

She smiled brightly. “You think I'm pretty?”

“I think you're beautiful.”

“That's why you call me Belle?”

Sweet magic. He was doomed. He nodded. That lie was as good as any. 

“I'll see you tonight,” he said before he fled the room.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Gold can’t escape.  
> (Their first time)

The seventh night:

He wore his coat again when he opened the door, but she didn't let that discourage herself. 

After she closed the door behind her, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed herself against him, breathing in his scent. It felt good to feel him so close. He placed his free hand on the small of her back. The warmth of his palm radiated through the thin fabric of her dress and she was ready to jump him right there. 

How could just his hand on her back do that to her? She wanted to feel his hands on her ass, on her breasts. She wanted to feel his skin on her naked body. His weight on her, his cock inside of her. She just plain wanted him. Maybe tonight was the night.

“Thank you,” she said and kissed his cheek. He was clean shaven, his skin was smooth under her lips. She wanted to kiss him, really kiss him.

He raised a brow and smiled. “For what?”

She wanted to kiss the corners of his mouth. She wanted to taste him. “For hiring me for another week.” She kissed his cheek again. Bernadette had called this afternoon to give her the news. Of course Jolie had been happy about it. Unfortunately not only because of the money. She was making this too personally and she would probably pay for it later but right now she wanted to enjoy his presence. She kissed his throat. “Thank you.”

He sighed and she felt his breath on her face. He tilted his head and buried his nose in her hair, breathing her in.

She shivered and ran her hands over the soft fabric of his coat. She sighed frustrated. “I hate that coat.”

He chuckled. “I think it suits me quite well.”

“Oh, I love how it looks on you.” She kissed his throat again. “I just don't like to see you leave.” To empathize her words, she pressed her hips against his.

“I have to work.” His hand stroked over her back. Gosh, she wanted him.

“I'd love to work too.” She trailed tiny kisses up to his ear. “Can't you stay? Please?” She nibbled on his earlobe. “There's a chapter about names in Winnie the Pooh. You like names.” 

“I do …” He swallowed and his other arm looped around her, she could feel the knob of his cane pressing against her back.

“Please stay,” she whispered in his ear. “Please.”

He groaned, she heard a thump and then both his hands hands explored her back, moving over her shoulder blades, her spine, the swell of her ass. At the same time he started peppering her with kisses. The top of her head, her forehead, her cheeks, chin, throat. His tongue licked over the dip of her collar bone. she buried her hands in his hair to hold him to her.

“Yes,” she moaned and bucked her hips into him. She felt his cock harden against her thigh. When she lifted one of her legs, his hand moved to her thigh to support her. She needed him. She felt so empty and his mouth on her throat was driving her insane, nibbling, licking, biting at her. She needed him now! There was a small cabinet in the floor to her left, just three steps away and high enough for her to sit on. She would be at the perfect height for him to pound into her, if his ankle would allow it. Or she could just pull him to the floor and ride them both into bliss.

“Please.” She was begging, but she didn't care. She wanted to kiss him. This was insane. She fucking needed him now!

He moved them backwards until she leaned against the wall. His hands traveled up her sides, her arms, her hands. He twined his fingers with hers and pressed her hands against the wall. He pulled his head back and their gazes met. He looked so sexy, his hair a mess, his mouth swollen. He licked his lips and her knees almost gave out from under her. She lifted her head from the wall. She needed to kiss him. She had to taste him. He stared at her mouth. If he would just meet her half way …

“Noah,” she breathed, “please.”

And something went horribly wrong because he moved away instead of closer. She reached for him but he stumbled backwards and away from her and she felt like screaming from frustration. He shook his head.

His erection tented his trousers, his eyes were widened. 

“I'm so sorry,” he whispered. 

She wanted to tell him he could make it all up to her by just dropping his pants so she could have her wicked way with him.

Then she saw the tears in his eyes. What the hell was going on?

“Noah?”

He shook his head again and swallowed. “I have to go.” His voice was hoarse.

She frowned. She reached for him again, wanting to hug him, wanting so soothe him.

“No!” he said sharply. He lifted his chin, trying to hold his balance without his cane. He looked like a trapped animal. He took a breath. “I really need to go,” he said. He started out strong, but his voice weakened with every word. “Please.” He was begging now. 

“Noah, what's wrong?” She wished he would allow her to kiss it all better, but as it seemed, he wasn't even willing to let her touch him. She pulled in her lower lip and chewed on it. 

“Work.” He cleared his throat. “I have to work.” His wounded leg was trembling and she was afraid he would fall.

She picked up his cane. He took the cane from her hands, careful not to touch her.

She watched him leave, confused and frustrated. He had been like that when she had found him in the library with his hurt ankle. Now it looked like she was the cause of his pain. She fucking hated that thought.

o0o

The seventh morning:

He was sitting in his seat when she entered the kitchen and she felt relief washing over her. He wasn't reading this time, there was no tea. Just him, sitting in his chair, his head resting on his crocked up hands. Dark rings circled his eyes and he looked pale, but at least he was here with her. After he had fled from her last night she had been afraid he wouldn't return. He looked at her, when she entered the room. His eyes followed her movements as she walked up to the chair next to him and sat down. She reached out a hand to place it on his arm, but he straightened himself and leaned back in his chair, resting his hands in his lap.

Jolie nibbled on her lip. She hated this distance between them.

“Are you alright?” she asked, almost sure he wouldn't give her an answer and yet she couldn't hold the words back.

“Of course,” he replied. She didn't believe him.

“Did I do something wrong last night?”

“No.” He swallowed hard and shook his head. “It was …” He took a breath and met her gaze. “You did nothing wrong. I'm sorry I made you feel uncomfortable.”

“I missed you last night.”

“I'm sorry.”

She wished he would tell her what was wrong. She wished she could fix it. Still she was still just somebody he paid to spend the night in his mansion, right? Too bad it wasn't just about money for her any longer. This would end badly for her, she knew it. This would end with her in tears and a broken heart.

But until then they had time. And she wanted to spend that time with him.

“Just tell me you'll stay tonight,” she said, forcing a smile. “We could cook together. And I could read to you some more. I'd even use different voices for all the characters.”

He chuckled. “That sounds lovely.”

“So you'll stay tonight?”

He nodded and she felt relief.

o0o

The eighth night:

He wasn't wearing his coat and she felt like kissing him just for that. On top of it, the corners of his mouth kept twitching upwards and she wanted to wrap herself around him and pepper his face with kisses until he would laugh. He seemed different from this morning. More relaxed, and that smile. She really wanted to kiss him.

She walked up to him and reached out, but he stepped back.

“I have something to show you,” he said and smiled. He was adorable, absolutely kissable. 

“Really?” she asked smiling. 

“Really.”

He flinched a little, when she took his arm, but he didn't pull away, but lead her to the dining room.

“I thought we wanted to cook?” she asked when she saw that the table was already set for two at the top end of the table. 

“I wanted to do something for you.” He pulled his shoulders up and nibbled on his bottom lip. “Are you disappointed?”

“No.” She shook her head and smiled brightly. He was adorable. “It's great, Noah.” 

It really was. White porcelain and elegant wine glasses, shiny silverware and cotton napkins. A vase of roses decorated the table and candles were lit everywhere in the room. It was beautiful. So far nobody had ever done anything as romantic as this for her. Another reason that made her want to kiss him. 

She held her clutch tight in her hands, thinking of the tree condoms she had stashed in it. maybe tonight they would be using them. She wanted him to fuck her in here. She pictured him standing between her spread legs, her bare ass resting on the polished wood of the table, while he pounded into her. Or she could bend over it, admiring the roses while he took her from behind. No, that was unrealistic. If he would take her like that, deep and fast, her eyes would be closed. She smirked. 

But he frowned. 

“What's wrong?” she asked. He better not dared to leave her alone again.

“Nothing.”

“Noah?”

“I don't …” He sighed and shrugged. “I hope you like asian cuisine?” he asked.

She nodded. “Love it.” She hated that he hid from her. She hated that she wanted to know all about him. At least he wasn't leaving.

“You came just in time,” he said, sounding relieved. “I just arranged the food on the plates.”

“It looks delicious.” Not as delicious as he looked in his gray, pinstriped suit and purple tie. She licked her lips and he swallowed.

He pulled back the chair for her and she smiled before she sat down. She wanted to kiss him for that too. He was such a gentleman and she planned on rewarding him generously.

He poured them red wine and she smelled the scent of his cologne as he leaned over her. She wanted to lick over his skin. When he put the bottle down on a little tray, she opened her clutch and took out a condom that she shoved into her bar. A little promise to herself that her sexual frustration would end tonight. She smirked and he raised a brow at her as he sat down too.

They ate in silence, smiling at each other once in a while. She couldn't really concentrate on the food, not when he looked so tempting himself. She wanted him. Hopefully tonight she would finally have him.

After he placed fork and knife on the now empty plate in front of him, he sipped on the wine, before he said, “We could maybe play some scrabble tonight. Would you like that?”

Maybe he could write words on her skin with his tongue. Rubbing her legs together, she put down fork and knife as well and tilted her head.

“Can I ask you something personal?” she asked.

He chuckled. “You never hesitated before.”

“I know you for more than a week now and I still don't know what you do for a living.”

“I own some property, which I rent out.” He leaned back in his chair, holding the glass of wine in both hands. “What did they tell you about me before you came here?”

“That you're the richest, most dangerous man in Storybrooke.”

He gave her the shark smile. “Sounds about right.” 

“You don't seem dangerous to me.” She stood up and walked around the table.

“You don't know me that well.” 

“I think I do,” she said.

His eyes followed her every move and widened when she sat on the table right next to him. He short, red dress hitched up her legs as she did so and he stared at her exposed thighs. He swallowed hard. His hands tightened around the glass and she worried he'd break it. Not that she would mind licking the wine from his body … Though she loved how he looked in his fancy suits, she wanted to finally have him naked. She licked her lips and he flinched. 

“I'm making you nervous.” She moved between him and the table, pushing back the plate to make room for herself.

He cleared his throat. “There's food on the table.”

“I'm ready for dessert.” She took the glass from his hands, making sure their fingers touched as she did so. Now that he wasn't holding on to the glass any longer, his fingers wrapped around the arms of his chair.

“I could … could offer you ice cream,” he stuttered, “for dessert.” 

“You're adorable.” She cradled his face in her hands and ran her thumb over his mouth, staring at his lips. “I think I fantasized about kissing you since night one.”

He swallowed again. “You don't kiss.”

“Not for money.”

With that she pressed her lips against his before she sucked in his bottom lip. He sighed and she took the opportunity to taste him. Delicious. His tongue greeted hers and they played with each other, licking, nibbling at each other. She should've kissed him on their first night, he was so good. His hands moved to her thighs, caressing her bare skin.

She spread her legs and her skirt hitched higher. His fingers caressed every bit of freshly exposed skin until they reached her panties. She gasped when he stroked her through her panties with two fingers, one of his hands closing around her thigh. She was wet for him, she needed him.

She kept one hand in his hair and ran the other one down the lapels of his suit, over his stomach down to cup his cock through his trousers. She moaned when she found him already erect and swallowed his groan. Gosh, she needed him to fill her up, to fuck her.

In a hurry she pulled down the zipper of his pants and reached inside, eager to feel his flesh. She struggled to push her hand inside his boxers, but it all was worth it when she finally wrapped her hand around his hot cock. She kissed him deeply while she freed his erection from his pants.

His fingers dug into her thighs as she stroked him. He broke away from their kiss and his head rolled back, exposing his throat. She licked at his skin, nibbled on his throat. 

“Belle!” he yelped. Then his whole body went stiff. “Fuck!” He came and spilled his seed over her hand and her thighs, his face a mask of bliss. 

“Come for me, darling!” She loved every moment of it. A drop landed on her dress, she didn't care for a moment. She kept stroking him gently, stealing his kisses until he was spend. She couldn't wait to take him in her mouth, couldn't wait to please him like that again.

“Fuck,” he hissed. “I'm so sorry.” He was shaking, his lip trembled. 

“No need to apologize.” She pressed her lips against his throat. “You have a beautiful cock.” She glanced between their bodies and looked at his cock, her hand still stroking his flesh. “You're beautiful.”

“I'm so sorry,” he repeated. “I'm so sorry, Belle.” He sounded like he was about to cry. “Please.” He held his hands up and she missed their warmth on her skin. She needed him to touch her.

“Ssh,” she whispered in his ear and nibbled on his earlobe, while his cock became flaccid in her hand. “It happens to a lot of men, it doesn't mean we can't enjoy each other.” 

Hanging his head, he avoided her gaze.

She let go of him, unzipped her dress and pulled it over her head, leaving her in a strapless, black bra with matching panties.

“Please forgive me,” he whimpered, his hands now rested next to his exposed cock in his lap.

“There's nothing to forgive.” She took his hands in her own. “Just don't leave me hanging now.” She moved his hands up her spread legs and sighed, when they reached the hem of her panties. “Please, love!” 

They were both panting.

He stared at their joined hands and swallowed hard. She let go of his left hand and tugged his hair out of his face, before she cradled his face. Pressing his left hand against her hot sex, she leaned forward and kissed him.

“I need you,” she whispered, rubbing herself against his palm. “Touch me. Make me come.”

He shivered. Then his mouth was on hers, his lips moving over hers restlessly, his tongue demanding entrance. Teeth, tongue, lips. Hungry, desperate. Perfect. 

With her right hand in his hair, she supported herself on the table with the left.

His hands tore at her panties until the thin fabric ripped. She didn't care, because his fingers brushed over her labia, before parting her folds. His thumb found her clit and she keened. His mouth moved to her throat as her head lolled back in pleasure. She couldn't see straight, her body a bundle of nerves filled with desire and he licked her throat, nibbled at her skin, scraped over it with his teeth.

His left hand grabbed her ass, pulling her closer to the edge of the table. 

Two of his fingers entered her wet pussy, finally filling her up while his thumb kept circling her clit, applying just the right amount of pleasure. 

“Yes! More!” Gosh, he was good at that. His fingers bent and pressed against that delicious spot inside her, every time they thrusted into her. 

Hand on her hip, he bent her backwards, his fingers inside her not slowing down. He drew his mouth over her collar bone down the gap between her still covered breasts, over her stomach until he closed his lips around his clitoris, nibbling on her gently before he licked over her slit with the flat of his tongue.

“Fuck!” she keened. She reached behind her and shoved away their plates. Her wine glass fell over the edge and shattered on the floor.

He groaned wordlessly and kept worshipping her with his mouth and hands. That was how it felt like. Worship. He glanced up while licking her clit and their gazes connected. She loved the expression in his eyes.

“Yes,” she moaned. His fingers pumped faster into her, his hot tongue made contact with her clit over and over again and she came hard, contracting around his fingers. He kept thrusting his fingers and drank in her juices until she felt light as a butterfly. 

Her eyes fell shut, her head came to rest on the table. She felt boneless.

He removed his fingers from inside her. His mouth was gone from her, she heard slicking, slurping, then she felt his lips on her stomach. Slowly, lazy almost, he explored her body, kissed every spot he could reach until he had to stand up from his chair. His hands moved over her thighs up her sides until he cupped her breasts, massaging her flesh through her bra and pressing the plastic foiled condom into her skin. He stepped between her spread legs and she felt the hot tip of his erection against her inner thigh.

She sighed and melted into his touch. He felt so good. Her strength returned and she brought her hands up to his head, lacing her fingers into his hair.

She raised herself up and pulled him to her for a long, sensual kiss. He wrapped his arms around her, his hands covering her shoulder blades. They straightened up together until their chests were pressed against each other. She locked her legs behind him, pulling him closer. 

They both groaned when his cock brushed against her wet pussy. She was already hungry for him again. She needed to feel his cock inside her, she wanted to see his face in bliss once more. With just some adjustment of her hips, he could slip inside her. She wanted that.

Before she could lose the rest of her control, she reached between them and pulled the condom out of her bra before she undid the clap on her back with her other hand. 

“Yes,” she moaned when his mouth went to that sensitive spot right behind her ear again and he chuckled. The vibrations of his laugh tickled her skin and made her shiver. While she dropped the bra to the floor, his hands covered her breasts, massaging her once again, his thumbs rubbing over her erect nipples. He tried to make her lie down again and as much she wanted to feel his mouth on her again, she had other needs to satisfy first. 

She concentrated on the condom, ripping the foil open, careful to not drop it. Then she reached between them and took his cock in her hand again.

Hissing, he pulled away his hands gliding down her body until they rested on her knees, but her legs crossed behind him kept him in place. His eyes widened as he watched her place the condom on the tip of his erection.

“Belle, please,” he groaned. As much as she liked that endearment, she wished he would call her by name.

“I need you inside me, love” she purred and rolled the condom over his cock. She leaned forward and captured his bottom lip between hers, sucking on it gently before letting go. Her hands guided his cock to her entrance. “Fuck me!”

“Fuck!” He grabbed her hips and thrusted into her, making her keen.

“Yes, just like that!”

His cock brushed against her clit with every stroke. Then he moved, doing something so he hit that sweet spot inside her with every thrust. She held on to his shoulders while he pounded into her, his eyes closed, his mouth open. She watched him, studying his features as pleasure build up in her body again. She loved seeing the same on his face. 

The expensive fabric of his suit felt soft against her skin. She liked the contrast. It felt sexy to let him fuck her fully closed while she was nude.

He took her hard and fast, eager, desperate. It was wonderful. Why the hell did they wait to do this for seven fucking nights?

Then he opened his eyes, smiling just a little as his gaze focused on her. That sent her over the edge and as she screamed his name, she felt him spill himself inside of her.

Afterwards, he collapsed on the chair, behind him, dragging her with him. The chair had just enough space for her knees to rest at his sides.

“Sorry,” he uttered, breathing heavily. 

It wasn't the most comfortable position, but it didn't matter. She wasn't ready to let go of him yet. Cradling his face in her hands, she kissed his forehead, his eye lids, the tip of his nose. His hands caressed her back, her shoulders, her spine, the swell of her ass. This felt good. She wanted to take him to bed and start all over again.

Then she remembered his ankle. Crap. She pulled away to look at his face, searching for signs of pain or discomfort. To her relief, his face was relaxed. Still, she needed to be sure.

“How's your ankle?” she asked.

“Hm?” His eyes fluttered open and he smiled.

Unable to resist, she kissed him again. “I'm sorry for being rough with you,” she said. “Are you okay?”

He chuckled. “You're too good for this world, you know that?”

“So you're not in pain?”

“I'm not.”

“Good.” She kissed him more forcefully. “I have two more condoms in my bag that I intend to use tonight.”

That and she finally wanted to get him out of that suit.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Gold is faced with reality.

 

The eighth night:

It felt like freedom, like home being like this. His cock was buried inside Belle's body, he could feel her clenching around him. They were touching all over. So close. Bliss. His hands caressed her hips. Her taste lingered in his mouth. Her scent surrounded him.

Jolie had never been more her true self than now. Her gestures, her smile, the kindness in her words and actions. The passion in her eyes. Belle.

He loved her so much.

Her concern with his ankle, his pain, broke his heart.

What had he done?

Jolie's fingers played with the sweated hair behind his neck.

"This was fantastic," she said, still smiling. "You're fantastic." She looked so happy and that only made it worse.

He stopped his hands from moving, but he couldn't bring himself to draw away. That was how pathetic he was. Belle would hate him for that. He hated himself for that. When she kissed him, he kissed her back. They were gentle, slow. He wanted this to be real. Living a fantasy never had been more cruel.

She pulled back and stood up, supporting herself with her hands on his shoulders. His cock slipped out of her body, his hands dropped to his sides.

She steadied herself and her hands glided down his chest to his crotch. She bent and kissed him, while she took off the condom with swift movements. Her tenderness killed him. He bit his lip. Hard.

"I clean up," she said, pulling her hands away, "and then I'm gonna take you to bed."

He sighed. With trembling fingers he tried to put his cock back into his trousers. Jolie raised a brow and smirked.

"Don't bother with it," she said with a smirk as she piled up the dishes. "I'll undress you completely in just a few moments anyway."

He swallowed hard, feeling his arousal building up again. She was beautiful. Shamelessly naked, soft skin, wonderful curves and dips. And he was a monster.

She left the room with swinging hips, carrying out the dirty dishes and the used condom. After the door closed behind her, he managed to close his trousers and get up. He took his cane, limbed out of the room, down the floor, grabbed his keys and fled.

o0o

The ninth night:

Gold needed to focus on his goals. Henry had fallen under a sleeping curse thanks to Regina and Emma would bring him what he needed. He was getting a chance to find his son. Because all of this was for Baefire. The lying, the cheating, the cruelty. He did everything to get his son back.

But not this. He watched Jolie get out of the car and his heart clenched with desire. The situation with Belle had always been about him alone. No ulterior motive to save anybody aside himself. As if salvation would even exist for a creature like him.

He opened the door and her face lightened up. Her steps quickened up.

"There you are," she said with a bright smile. "I was worried you'd be gone." She reached out and wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing herself against him.

He closed his eyes for a second. This was everything he wanted and he was oh so very tempted to keep living this lie. She kissed his ear.

"I missed you yesterday night." She nuzzled his neck. "Why did you leave so suddenly? Work?"

His right hand tightened around the handle of his cane while the fingers of his left dug painfully into his thigh.

If she kept touching him, he'd give into her. "Don't, Jolie, please."

She backed away a little. Her arms loosened, but she kept touching him. "Did I do something wrong?"

He looked at the car driving off and swallowed. "Don't you get tired, living like this? All the lies?"

"You think I'm pretending."

He looked at her. "I think we both are."

"Is this about Belle?" She let go of him and crossed her arms.

"Excuse me?"

She shook her head. "We both know that Belle isn't an endearment." Her voice was calm and controlled.

"I'm so sorry."

"May I ask who she is?"

"A brief flicker of light," he pressed out. He didn't dare look at her. His throat closed up and he bit his lip. How should he ever explain? Some time soon the curse would be broken and he was sure she wouldn't want any explanations from him then.

Jolie gave a short nod. "Did you hire me because I look like her?"

"Yes."

"You still love her?"

"Very much." His voice faded away.

"And being with me feels like you're betraying her?"

"Yes." He was crying now. And ashamed. So very ashamed.

She lifted her chin. "You should call her."

"What?" He must've misheard.

"Maybe she still loves you too? You should–"

This was surreal. "Stop." He pressed his lips together. Having her pull out his heart would be less painful.

"If you don't try you'll never know, if you two –"

"Stop! Just stop!" he yelled and stumbled backwards. Couldn't she see this was killing him? "You have no idea what you're talking about."

Tears welled up in her eyes. "Do you want me to leave?"

This was all wrong. "I want you safe."

She nodded shortly and caressed her arms. "What happened to her?"

"She fell in love with me and that cost her dearly."

"You're not a monster, Noah." She tilted her head, her features softened.

He needed to get out of here. "I have to leave for work."

And he fled again.

o0o

He kept cursing himself while he was driving to the pawn shop. What the hell had he been thinking hiring her in the first place? He should've known he would escalate like that. He should've known he'd be too weak to resist her. He always had been to weak to resist her.

But that seemed to be their story. He'd force her to live with him, she'd tear down his walls, he'd love her. He'd betray her. He'd make her leave.

Just one thing left.

Once he arrived at the pawn shop, he fired up his computer. It took him two hours to find out Jolie's full name, given the little information he had about her. But thanks to the University of Storybrooke website and patience, he found her in a graduation picture. Jolie Gardner. From there it was a piece of cake to find out her bank details. After he had amortized her debt and had added an extra ten thousand to her account via online banking, he called up the side of the escort service and dialed the service number.

"Hello, you reached Secret Desire Escorts, my name is Serena, how may I please you?" a female voice purred in his ear just moments later.

"I'm afraid I have to cancel my appointments with one of your ladies," Gold said, trying to sound calm.

"Are you not pleased with her services? Would you like to meet another woman?"

"No," he said hastily. "Jolie – er, Rosie is wonderful. It's just …" He thought for an explanation. "Business gets in the way of pleasure again."

"Oh, what a shame!" the women chirped. "Such a pity."

"Yes, pity …"

"So if you just give me your details, I will arrange everything to your wishes."

"Wonderful."

He still felt horrible when he hung up. But at least now Jolie was free to create the life she wanted.

o0o

The next day:

Gold couldn't really feel the victory. Magic was back, Henry was alive and well and he could start the search for Bae, yet he only felt exhaustion. He drove through the city while the purple smoke faded away. His body tingled while the magic filled his cells.

Everybody would remember now.

Belle would remember what he did to her. She would hate him. He hated himself, but he could live with that. He had hated himself centuries before he had met her. He just hated that he had hurt her again. Only proved that intentions never mattered.

He should concentrate on finding his son.

As soon as he'd be at the mansion, he'd start with that. He had magic to perform.

Then he found the woman he loved sitting on the steps of his porch. She stood up when he drove towards the house and his plans didn't matter anymore.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jolie gets bad news.

**Chapter 10**

The ninth morning:

At some degree Jolie had always known that she was just a makeshift to him. It explained so much. Why he had been so smitten with her from the start. His guilt. His reluctance to have sex with her. Everything.

So now she sat in the car while Dustin drove her home, trying to hold back tears. Her arms crossed, she stared out of the tilted window, hoping this ride would soon be over and she'd be in the sanctuary of her own tiny apartment.

He hadn't returned home after he fled last night. She shouldn't take it so hard. She shouldn't have kissed him. She should've never told him her real name. How unprofessional.

She wished she'd be somebody else.

She wished she could be somebody he could love instead of being the reminder of what he had lost.

She wished she could be more professional about it.

Jolie straightened up in the back seat of the car. Tonight she'd be professional. She'd be what he wanted her to be. She'd be a companion. She'd be a friend.

First rule of business: The client's needs always came first.

She just wished she wouldn't be in love with him.

Jolie bit her lip. Her clutch vibrated on her lap and she flinched. Hope flared up. A call from Noah? And quickly died. He didn't have the number. Could she act any more ridiculous? She got the cell out and accepted the call.

Of course it was Bernadette.

“How do you feel about role playing as a french maid tonight?” Bernadette asked without any form of greeting.

Jolie's heartbeat quickened up. “Did Noah suggest something like that?” Maybe she had been wrong, maybe he wanted her.

“No, the request was made by Thomas Redford. He enjoyed your last session so much, he's been asking for you since last week.”

Jolie swallowed hard. “I'm sorry, I can't. Gold wants me exclusively.”

“Oh, darling, didn't he tell you?”

Jolie dug her fingers into the seat cushion. “Tell me what?”

“He had to chancel all your appointments because of a business trip. He called yesterday.”

It felt like all the was being pressed out of her lungs. Her stomach clenched. “Oh.”

“Didn't he tell you?”

“I'm sure he was just too busy,” Jolie pressed out, trying to carry her fake smile over with her voice.

“Are you alright, Jolie?” Bernadette asked.

“I'm just …” Jolie took a breath. “I'm just a little surprised.” And heart broken and miserable. “That's all. I think I'll take today off, if that's okay?”

“Of course it is, sweetie.” Bernadette's voice was soft now. “Don't take it to personal, yes? Things like that happen. I call you tomorrow.”

“Thanks Bernadette.”

They ended the phone call.

Business trip … He was avoiding her and she was almost grateful for that. Otherwise she might've told him she loved him. Otherwise she might've begged him to love her too. As if any of this had anything to do with her.

  
  


o0o

  
  


She refused to cry when she got home. Once she'd start, she wasn't sure if she could stop. This was so stupid. She was so stupid.

She missed him so much. She wished she had somebody to talk to, but she could only think of him. How was it possible that this stranger, this client had become a friend to her in not more than a week? And how come she already loved him more than any of her boyfriends she'd had?

So she took another shower and changed into some comfortable jeans and a t-shirt. Then she got a box of strawberry cheesecake out of the fridge, took a spoon and sat down at the tiny desk next to her only bookshelf that was almost bursting under the tons of books she had piled on it.

Jolie switched on her old laptop and checked her bank account if she could afford to buy a new pair of shoes. Shoes could certainly make her feel better.

When she saw the amount on her account, she almost dropped the spoon on her keyboard.

“What the …?”

10.000 Dollar. Noah Gold had transferred 10.000 dollar to her account. And her debts were paid of.

She was free. She sobbed. Tears finally started falling. She was free. From her debt, from him. Just. Free.

Energy filled her body. How dare he?

Now that she was rich, she decided to take a cab to his place.

  
  


o0o

  
  


This was so stupid. What the hell was she doing here? She should drive back home. He wasn't even here. His car was gone. Maybe he really had a business trip. Jolie got out of the cab anyway. 

She walked up the drive with quick steps, her chin held high. This was impulsive and stupid and she should leave right now.

Jolie turned around on the heel of her flats and then stopped when memories rushed through her. 

Her father, her village. Her name. The Dark One and his proposal. How he caught her after she fell. How sweet he could be. How lost he seemed. All the freedom he granted her. How he let her go. Their first kiss. How he pushed her away. Monsters. Mulan. Philip. The evil queen.

Rumplestiltskin. Rumplestiltskin. Rumplestiltskin.

How much she loved him. She started crying. Relief, sadness, happiness, confusion. Everything was so overwhelming.

And he had known who she was. And he had loved her the whole time. Belle sobbed.

She remembered now. And he loved her. 

She walked to the porch and sat down. She'd wait for him to come home. And he'd better hurry.

She wiped her tears away and smiled after all. He loved her.

Suddenly purple smoke was forming around her, like a wave it build up and up and came closer and closer until it surrounded her. She held her breath. The air was electrical. Goose bumps ran over her body. Something changed in the atmosphere. Something arrived. She had felt this energy around the Dark castle. Magic. Magic was here.

Belle shivered. 

Slowly, the smoke faded away. Still she could hear the car before she could see it.

It just had to be him.

She stood up when the car drove up to the house. It stopped on the middle of the drive and she walked towards him. Inside it she could see him sit, his hands clenched around the staring wheel.

“Rumplestiltskin,” she mouthed, her steps quickened up. She was crying. Still or again? She didn't know.

He got out of the car and as soon as he stood, she wrapped her arms around him, making him stumble back against the car while she pressed against him, burying her face in his neck. He stiffened under her touch at first, then he exhaled and the tension left his body slowly.

“Rumplestiltskin,” she whispered. It was him. It was really him. And he had loved her all along. “I love you so much.”

He sobbed. They were both such cry babies. She loved him so much. He must've been in such turmoil with her next to him and yet not remembering.

“I'm so sorry,” he uttered. His hands caressed her back tenderly. “I'm so sorry.””

She pressed herself into him. “It's okay. I'm here now.” They wouldn't be parted again. She wouldn't allow it.

She kissed his ear. His neck. His chin. His lips. 

“Belle,” he sighed. His eyes fell shut. She kissed his lips again. It felt different from the last time she had kissed him. It felt even better. This time she knew he loved her too. She nibbled on his bottom lip. He sighed again and wrapped his arms around her waist.

She traced his lips with her tongue before she tasted him. Home. She lost herself in their kiss until it wasn't enough any more, so she started to pull at his clothes. He was wearing that damned coat again. 

He groaned when she bucked her hips against him. She could feel his cock stir in his trousers. She needed him naked. She needed him inside her. She attacked his neck with her lips and his hands moved to her ass, cupping it firmly. She felt her panties getting soaked by her fluids. She wished she'd be wearing one of her work outfits. Then she could just pull up her dress and have him fuck her right there on his car. Gosh, she needed him. 

“Please, Rumple,” she purred and pushed his coat over his shoulders.

“Belle.” He sounded breathless.

He let go of her ass to slip out of the coat. She made up for the loss of contact by kissing him again. The coat dropped to the floor and his hands returned to her body. They roamed over her back, the sides of her breasts and back to her ass.

She felt him hard against her thighs. She wished they'd already be naked. She started pushing at his suit, before she gave up and sneaked a hand between their bodies to cup his cock through his trousers. He groaned into her mouth and broke apart. His hands moved to her hips and pushed her away.

“Belle!” he gasped. “We need to –“

“I need you.” She kissed him. “I love you.” 

His grip weakened and she massaged his cock. 

“I want you,” she purred. “Please.”

“Not here,” he begged.

She had almost forgotten that they were outside. He was probably right. She kissed him quickly and let go of him to pick up his coat and the cane he had dropped when she had tackled him earlier.

She handed him the cane, but wrapped the coat over her arm.

Her love teared up again. “I love you,” he said.

“I love you too.” Another kiss. She took him by the hand and together they hurried inside.

As soon as the door closed behind them, Belle turned to face him and cradled his face with her hands. This time her kiss was gentle.

“I love you,” she said. Saying it felt fantastic. Kissing him felt fantastic. She smiled and kissed him again. Under her lips, his mouth curled into a smile too.

“Belle,” he mumbled. His hands went to her hips and his thumbs stroked the little line of exposed skin between her jeans and her shirt. 

“Belle, Belle, Belle …” He kept mumbling her name while she kissed his throat and took of his tie.

Eager, she pressed her hips into his. He groaned again. Together they struggled with their clothes. Messy kisses, fumbling hands. Eager, desperate for each other. This was crazy. Desperate. But real. She needed it to be real. He was Rumplestiltskin and she was Belle and they were in love. This was exactly right. 

His pants dropped and she stroked his cock. Hard and hot in her hand. She couldn't wait for him to fill her up again. 

Her shirt and his were already laying on the ground, together with her bra. He bend forward and kissed her breasts, sucked on her nipples. She keened. She needed him so much. Reluctantly she let go of him to open her jeans as quickly as possible.

He helped her to pull the jeans down her legs together with her panties. She almost fell over when she tried to step out of them with her shoes still on. He grabbed her arm and pulled her up and against him, his cock hot against her thigh. She needed him now! One his hands found its way between her legs and gently stroked over her pussy. 

“Yes!” she hissed when his finger entered her. His thumb stroked over her clit and her knees went weak. She head to support herself by holding on to his shoulders. When he withdrew his finger she moaned at the loss.

He kissed her deeply and she pulled him with her to the floor. He bumped his head and she wanted to apologize, but he sealed her mouth with another kiss. His suit was probably getting crinkled judging by the way they were rolling over their clothes.

She straddled him and his cock brushed against her wet folds. They both groaned. His hands dug into her hips. She kissed him and snuck a hand between them to line him up at her entrance before she slowly lowered herself on him, taking her time. She watched his face and everything was bliss. His eyes where closed, his mouth slightly opened and his brows were furrowed in concentration.

“Belle,” he gasped.

He was so completely hers. She loved him. He filled her and it felt fantastic. If felt even better when she started moving. She bent forward to kiss him and his cock brushed against her clit while she rode him. She quickened her pace, she would take her sweet time with him once they made it into bed. She came before him, but he followed close behind.

She collapsed on him. When she wanted to lift her weight off him, his hands on her shoulder blades held her back.

“Not yet,” he mumbled and kissed the crown of her hair.

She kissed his collar bone. “I'm too heavy.”

“I love you so much, Belle.”

Maybe she could stay like this a little longer.

  
  


o0o

  
  


Next morning she woke up in his bed. Before she opened her eyes, she could already smell the tea. She smiled and looked to find Rumple sitting at the corner of the bed, holding two mugs of tea. Unfortunately he was already dressed.

And he looked unhappy. Her smile faded and she sat up.

“What's wrong?”

“I'm so sorry, Belle,” he said.

She frowned. “For what?”

“Using you.” He handed her the tea. 

“You didn't use me.” She made sure to brush her fingers over his when she took the mug from him.

“I took you while you had no recollection of who I was.” His voice was confidant but again, he had it all wrong.

“If you want to speak about taking, I was clearly in charge in that situation.”

“You weren't you, you were …”

“Jolie.”

“And I took advantage of you. I paid you.”

She shook her head. “I slept with you because I love you.”

“Belle …”

“When you told me about, well, me … that broke my heart.” 

He avoided her gaze. “I'm sorry.”

She put the mug on the nightstand so she could reach for him with both hands. “Stop apologizing.” She ran her hands over his arms. He needed to stop punishing himself if they wanted to have a chance together.

He shrugged. “I don't know what else to do.”

“Just …” She sighed. They were still in such a mess. “Just love me.”

He looked at her again, open and vulnerable. “I do.”

“I love you too.” She swallowed. He would make her cry again. “Now come back to bed.”

“What about the tea?”

He was adorable. “Don't care.” She took the mug from him and placed it next to hers on the nightstand. She kissed him then. She would kiss him a thousand times.

  
  


The End


End file.
